


I Deserve It

by alephthirteen



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alpha Alex Danvers, Alpha Kara Danvers, Alpha Red Daughter, Alpha Sam Arias, And She is HORNY, F/F, Just Gonna MAKE the Baby Instead, Kara May Actually Make a Non-Sexy Sandwich Because Fucking Lena Works Up An Appetite, Kara's Authority Figure Voice Does Things to Lena's Insides, Kelly Gets Alex Polyamory for Their Anniversary, Kelly and Alex Get Fed Up With Adopting, Lena Knows She Needs to Make Up for Some Things, Lena Wants Red Daughter Back So She Can Make a Sandwich, Omega Kelly Olsen, Omega Lena Luthor, So She Wants to Do Both at Once
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:55:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29753010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alephthirteen/pseuds/alephthirteen
Summary: She goes back into the dining room. Lena is the picture of depravity. Mascara running. Strands of her juices running down the tequila bottle to drip onto the carpet. Hips bucking. Sobbing quietly."I can't find it. I can't come."Kara pulls the sweater over her head and Lena's pupils swallow up all the green in her eyes and her scent pours out into the room. Tendrils ofwant youandneed youandI'd taste so sweetand stick it in me that hit Kara like some new form of Kryptonite.Kara unbuckles her belt and shimmies out of her jeans. Lena's eyes trace the bulge and her brilliant mind is no doubt doing some calculus about angles and depth perception and guessing based on the font size of the Calvin Klein logo. She licks her fucking lips, the little minx. Kara pulls her bra off and Lena moans, broken and wavering. She slides her boxers down and Lena's body goes taut and she twitches and thrashes through an orgasm.By dawn, Lena's either going to be on the path of the angels, or so exhausted that she can't get out of bed to do evil.
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor, Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor/Red Daughter | Linda Lee, Samantha "Sam" Arias/Alex Danvers/Kelly Olsen
Comments: 8
Kudos: 64





	1. Mexican Standoffs and Impromptu Dildos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Lena has strange ideas on what an apology is, Kara dreamed of having a family, and the path to reconciliation may be ice cold and lubed with vegetable oil...

Lena knew that _Non Nocere_ could save the world. It still could, if she's being brutally logical about it. If she throws out all semblance of respect for free will, or agency, or self determination.

With Myriad at the core, it could force every human being on the planet to take up yoga, or dieting, or anger management. She could flick her fingers across her phone's screen and no one at a gala would ever snarl at her for teasing. No one would slice her date's clothes off with their eyes and joke under their breath about teaching them that even lesbians need dick.

Gods above and below, it's tempting. She'd be turning the key right now, but for what Lex just said. It's ringing in her ears. Echoes of his madness making what remains of her soul cringe. What remains of her mother, she supposes. Helen Connelly of Ashford in County Wicklow. She knows that because Kara found it in one of Lex's files. Before the Crisis. Sent it after their argument at the gala. A peace offering.

_After that, we can fix everything else that's wrong. Everything left over. Everything that resists us._

Lex has been careful not to utter the word 'Supergirl' but the threat could be no clearer. He knows, and she knows. Information and innuendo. Like how Lillian once told her that perhaps her boarding school shouldn't take a skiing trip. Perhaps yachting? Lena had told her—gushingly, stupidly—about her first girlfriend. Somewhere in the conversation it came up that Emilia couldn't swim.

They both know that all of six species can resist Myriad—Kryptonians among them—and two of them live exclusively in god-dimensions in the Multiverse, one is Martians, one is artificial. The Martians, mighty and cunning as they are, can be burned out. Lex has already bent Brainy to his will. The only thing left that could resist Myriad's power for more than ten minutes is Supergirl.

Lena delicately taps on one of the controls, injecting bad code and off lining Myriad for a day or two at least. Much as it frustrates Lex, there are multiple dialects of Kryptonian on the device and in the schematics. One of them not recorded in Lex's stolen files, but it is on Lena's laptop. Supergirl's YouTube had things like language and cooking tutorials. Lex had it taken down in the new world he made. Lena had already ripped the entire channel. Hers might be the only record of that attempt at outreach.

Myriad isn't hers to control, but because she knows more of Ajatkanii than Lex, it's more hers than it is his.

That YouTube channel has done deeply wicked things to her late at night. Belly down, chin tucked under a pillow to keep the iPad in view. Panting. Her slick dripping down her own fingers. Watching as Supergirl fired up a barbecue with heat vision and showed how to make chicken kebabs with something like curry. Something from back home.

She had no idea that _the_ Supergirl was _her_ Kara back then, but her omega knew that it wanted those pearly teeth ripping into her flesh. Maybe after a fight, or a close call, the sun goddess could force her to her knees. Take her. Ruin her. Make her _nothing_ and take all the hard choices away. Maybe use the heat vision to stencil a brand onto her? Property of Supergirl in Kryptonian glyphs, right next to her cunt?

After a while, the most degrading of the fantasies broke the rules. Stayed behind after the heat cooled off. How much _simpler_ to be barefoot and pregnant in the Fortress than it would fixing her brother's legacy. Policing L-Corp with its army of psychopathic scientists that went dark when she took over.

Sam's back, she heard. Putting feelers out, trying to integrate herself with Alex and Kelly because she never really forgot her crush and sharing Alex with an omega is infinitely better than no Alex. Alex could probably use a beta friend—do the Danvers sisters even have friends—free of the madness. It would probably take three mommies to save the world from Ruby, especially now that her powers are coming in. Let the businesswoman-slash-Worldkiller save L-Corp.

Lena can save the world or she can save Kara.

She's made her decision by the time she reaches for the limo's door.

"Where to, Miss Luthor?"

"Three-four-six Navy Avenue."

"Don't know it," he admits. "But you're the boss."

"And then head home, Tom. I hate to sound like my brother, but tell anyone I had you drop me here and I might have to do something _Luthor_ -ish to you."

"What? Like donate to my kid's school?"

* * *

The apartment doesn't feel right, somehow. If Lex _knew_ what his rewrite of reality did, he'd probably pop that vessel on his bald head. Drop dead. A single woman on a reporter's salary, but she has five bedrooms, three of them with ensuite bathrooms. Two home offices, and this place must be worth what her old building was. 

He probably wrote something like ' _small, shabby but not too many cockroaches_ ' and the Book of Destiny and his rich-boy idea of what 'small' means did the rest.

She used a favor that Mxy owed her to protect it from Lex. He can't take it away. When she did that, her heart was humming with maybes.

Who needs five bedrooms, anyhow? That's a bedroom for her, a guest bedroom for Alex and Kelly and the baby they _will_ adopt if Kara has to heat-vision every homophobic adoption worker on the planet into ash.

What to do with the other three, though?

Well, she thought, that's easy. One for the boys, one for the girls. Bunk beds, maybe. The rooms are _big enough_ that however many children she put in Lena, they'd be comfortable. Rao's mercy, that half-hour daydream on the way to the Pulitzer ceremony was sweet.

When she was done bawling into Ben & Jerry's, she helped Alex break into her old apartment and strip it. All her decorations and throw blankets and everything she owned barely cover the living room and one bedroom. Kelly demonstrated that yes, lesbians are better than everyone at everything. Kelly is _amazing_ at building IKEA furniture. Alex watched the turns of her mate's wrist on the hex wrench with such naked hunger that Kara's surprised the coffee table wasn't stress-tested immediately.

Her security system chimes.

"Ooh, pizza guy!"

It's not. It's Lena, her jaw clenched and her lips quivering and _pretending she's not crying_ because wiping the tears would admit they're there. Her citrusy, sugary scent is soured by her sadness, but _Rao_ how fondly Kara remembers it. She'd prepared cheesy pickup lines.

_They discontinued Sprite on this Earth, can you believe it? Have to eat you, instead._

Kara doesn't let her in, she just draws herself up and faces off.

"Hello, Lena."

"I've done something terrible."

Words tumble out faster than the tears.

* * *

Kara didn't kill her on sight. Didn't call for help apparently, because it's been ten minutes and Alex hasn't blown Lena's brains out from three buildings away.

She's _different_ in a pink turtleneck and blue jeans that ride the razor's edge between soccer mom and 'came out of a can' and Lena's breath hitches when she sees it. Kara looks like an English teacher grading papers on a Sunday now, and it breaks Lena's heart. Her betrayal changed this too. Gone are the button ups, the paradox of a cherry red skirt and bulging sleeves and a swagger that told the world she could do anything. She let her hair grow out, too. Maybe since the DEO fell, she decided to lose her military haircut.

Lena nearly destroyed the human race _and_ took the butch out of the Girl of Steel. Maybe because Lena was a lost cause? Why dress to impress if she couldn't get the girl? Three days away from her heat and woefully unfucked, Lena feels a fresh wave of shame. She betrayed every queer woman in America by making Supergirl feminine. Probably destroyed the stock value of Duracell as vibrators sat lonely.

"Say something, Kara. _Please._ "

Kara laughs, but it's not a happy laugh. She's made of cotton candy and puppies and ice cream at a picnic at the park, and Kara can't laugh. Has she not laughed since Lena ripped herself out of Kara's life?

"That's just what I said to you at the Pulitzer ceremony, Lena. Word for word. Remember that?"

Lena nods.

"Please, Kara. Let it out. Yell at me. _Punish me_ ," she pleads. "I was arrogant. I thought I was smarter than Lex. I thought I could do good. Yell at me. Slap me. _Anything,_ I deserve it."

Kara shakes her head.

"No. You deserve...something. But not abuse. Every day, Lex does something unforgivable. But what's _worst_ is how he treats you."

Kara pulls out a chair that looks like it came from her old apartment and slams it down on the slate floor of the mini-dining room by the kitchen. There's a sharp click and Lena flinches.

"Sit."

Lena's guts tumble and tangle, and she shuffles forward. Kara had been keeping her distance, ready to fight to the death at any moment. Now she's letting Lena approach. The wild stallion isn't rearing, hooves flashing, promising a cracked skull and quick death. The power's still there. One wrong move and she bolts.

"You think you deserve to be _beaten_?" Kara grumbles.

"Whether or not I forgive you, you're seeing a therapist."

* * *

Lena's explanation clicks. She was hurt, alone, feeling _not good enough._ So she drank from a well of power she couldn't control and lashed out. All the bad things she thought of doing seemed OK because she was hurting. 

Kara's done things for just that reason. Betrayal is Lena's version of Red Kryptonite.

She can't just forgive her. She shouldn't. There will have to be legal repercussions, and endless debriefs. Mind-reading from J'onn, if they can pressure her into it.

Lena is the good Luthor, and she's trying, trying so hard. She's still a Luthor.

Then there's her scent. Each time Kara shushes her, it sweetens. When Kara reaches out to pat her hand, Lena jerks it back with a blast of sour pheromones and then slowly pushes it forward with a smaller, sweeter whiff.

"If you take it seriously, we can help you, Lena. I'm not sure things can go back to how they were. But they can go back to something. Maybe something different."

Lena's tears fall faster now. Curiouser still is her scent. It flares, sweet as syrup and thick as a rainforest.

Something _different_ seems to be exactly what Lena wanted.

Then Lena has to go and make it weird.

"I've wanted you since we met," she whispers. "Some stupid part of me thought if I came here and apologized, that you'd scream it out and tell me to get on my knees. Facefuck me and leave me ruined. Make me a thing, so that I wouldn't have to feel or think. Just be there for you."

"Wow. We need like _six therapists_ if that's what you think an apology looks like. This isn't what I want."

It's a lie. Kara does want to fuck Lena. Lena's offering—terrifying and nasty—reboots her brain. When the spinning wheel completes and she can think, four and a half years of maybe-someday-hopefully. Memories of Lena glancing when Kara looked away, because she didn't know Kara had super-senses. Kara caught every stolen glance and slight blush as Lena looked away. Memories of her fingers going white on Kara's bicep during a mid-air save and the way she tucked her nose into her neck and breathed in, as if oxygen alone couldn't keep her alive.

If she _does_ marry Lena, or claim her, or mate-bite her, she's going to figure out how to make her Lena stop falling from skyscrapers and crashing planes.

_My Lena? Where in Vhoc's ass crack did I get that from?_

Maybe they can sort this out on that countertop.

"I...I've never _been_ with someone, Lena."

"That can't be. Do you have any idea how many women in this city wou-"

"Don't call me a liar."

Lena's jaw shuts with a click and her head tilts. So slightly a human might miss it. Back and to the right. Showing throat, so that the big bad alpha could rip her windpipe out with her teeth or that she could push the head the rest of the way to the side and _bite._

Fucking Lena back to the side of the angels?

It's so stupid that a romantic comedy wouldn't take it. Hell, a porn studio wouldn't take that plot.

Alex always has told her she's a sap.

Kara stands up and walks over to the refrigerator.

* * *

"My first time isn't going to be with a _villain,_ and I'm not sure where you are on that spectrum. But I can smell it. Your heat. It shouldn't be coming so early, should it?"

Lena shakes her head.

"It's you. It's every time you let me in today. Every time you let me get closer. In the door. Pulling out the chair. Everything. I wanted it, Kara. Wanted you since you stood there gawking after Clark Kent left my office. Wanted both parts of you."

Kara plunks three sweaty bottles in front of her. A craft brewed beer, some fancy energy drink, and a bottle of tequila. Short and thick. Long and slick and skinny. Thick and long. She goes back to the fridge and retrieves a tub of margarine.

"I can't have you making any poor decisions because you're in heat. Want me to believe that you're being fully truthful?"

Lena swallows.

"So badly."

Kara's scent is a hurricane now, a swirl of ozone and sunbaked clay and smoke. She is the eye of the storm. Sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Arms crossed and triceps jumping out from milky skin that wears a thin dusting of translucent golden hair, so tiny and faint that they disappear in the slightest change of light or angle. Lena needs to count them with a magnifying glass. Have Kara tally them with sharpie on her inner thigh. Lena's knees are jello and her cunt is slicking up so fast it's probably cannibalizing her brain tissue for moisture. Her panties are neither solid nor liquid. A new state of matter unknown to science.

"What do you need me to do, Kara?"

"Omegas don't think clearly when they're in heat. Prove to me that you hide _nothing_ and that your pride won't affect your judgement. Prove that you'll follow orders and put that above your ego."

_Not Lena. Omegas. She's reducing me. Provoking me. Testing me._

"How?" Lena asks, although she thinks maybe she already knows the answer.

"Pick one," Kara huffs. "And scratch your own fucking itch."

* * *

This is more distracting than she planned. She went into her bedroom to make the call. But Lena is _so fucking loud_ , like a rich girl who had a wing of the manor to herself and never needed to worry about being caught.

"Kara?" Alex grumbles into the phone. "What did you need to talk about?"

"Lena surrendered to me."

"I'll get the team. Be right over. Do _not_ listen to a word she says."

"Alex," Kara snaps, using her Supergirl voice. The one she never uses on her sister. "You can come, but not now. Tonight, maybe. Lena came to help. To apologize."

"How can you be sure?"

"She went into pre-heat about fifteen minutes in and offered to let me fuck her."

"Think with your knot and she'll get you killed."

Kara sighs.

"Yeah. I think she's trying, but we've got a way to go."

"You sent her away, right? Removed the temptation?"

Kara scoffs.

"I gave her a beer bottle and told her that if she needs an orgasm, she can do it herself. Figured if she couldn't get over the awkwardness, she wasn't serious."

Alex sputters and just goes into a wall-to-wall stream of half-whispered swearing.

The sound of Kelly's giggles goes on so long Kara finally hangs up.

* * *

She holds the beer bottle to her lips, drawing in as much of the scent of Kara's fingers as she can. The tequila bottle is a monster. One liter, probably. Like a pair of Coke Cans end to end with one of the half-sized ones for good measure. Big as the biggest cock could be and still fit inside a woman. Cylindrical, not flared and curved, which makes it a bitch to get in. It's still _possible,_ and she needs to prove herself.

Lena knows what she's in for. She's stared at ultra-high res security footage of Kara's lobby fight with Cyborg Superman. Seen her huffing and growling at the creature that once was Hank Henshaw, her body between his heat vision and Lena's frailty. Done the math on length of the uniform's skirt, researched the average angle of an alpha's cock when erect, compared it to location of the bulge. Double checked it. Triple checked it. 

If she'd seen the view from the _front_ that night, she'd probably have slithered to her knees then and there.

Kara comes back in and sets her phone down.

"Lena, are you insane?"

"No," she huffs. "Full. I think this is bigger than you are."

"How would you have _any idea_?" Kara snaps.

"Security footage of your fights in L-Corp. Back in the day. Your skirt is about twenty inches from belt to hem. There's a spot where it was out at an angle."

Lena hisses as she manages to sink in another inch.

"I looked up some statistics and did the math."

"You horny weirdo," Kara almost-laughs. 

"I'm calling J'onn. I can't watch this."

"I'll leave," Lena croaks. "I'm disgusting right now, aren't I?"

"Sit. Down," Kara grinds out. "Do not leave that chair."

* * *

"You do realize that I see you as a daughter, right?"

Kara ducks her head.

"Just check her from around the corner, then? Or I can throw a blanket over her. I want to believe what she's saying, J'onn. Someday, I want to be hers and for her to be mine. So badly I can't explain. But today, I need to know that she's actually trying. I need to know what's in her heart of hearts and I need to know soon."

He grits his teeth and nods.

"You owe me."

"I know."

* * *

He comes back in ten minutes later.

"She's sincere, Kara. Fully and truly. Her most intense emotion is shame, so tread lightly with her. I've seen things in her mind that I don't think I'll ever recover from, and I'm not talking about her sexual fantasies. She's been abused since before she could read or write."

"She'll _let_ you do anything," he warns her, putting a big hand on her shoulder "So make me proud by figuring out what she wants and making you both happy."

"Thanks, Space Dad."

She goes back into the dining room. Lena is the picture of depravity. Mascara running. Strands of her juices running down the bottle to drip onto the carpet. Hips bucking. Sobbing quietly.

"I can't find it. I can't _come,_ " she moans.

Kara pulls the sweater over her head and at the sight of her ratty bra—laundry day—Lena's pupils swallow up all the green in her eyes and her lemon-lime sweetness pours out into the room. Tendrils of _want_ _you_ and _need you_ and _I'd taste so sweet_ and _stick it in me_ that hit Kara like some new form of Kryptonite. Her body isn't fully hers.

If nothing else, her first time will be a funny story to never ever tell the kids.

Kara unbuckles her belt and shimmies out of her jeans. Lena's eyes trace the bulge and her brilliant mind is no doubt doing some calculus about angles and depth perception and guessing based on the font size of the Calvin Klein logo and she _licks her fucking lips_ , the little minx.

By dawn, Lena's either going to be on the path of the angels, or so pounded she can't get out of bed to do evil.

Kara pulls her bra off and Lena moans, broken and wavering. She slides her boxers down and Lena's body goes taut and she twitches and thrashes through an orgasm. Kara wraps her hand around her aching cock, smearing the precum around and pumping it as she approaches her prey with teeth bared.


	2. Kelly's Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Lena is thirsty, Kara's never been with a girl, Alex and Kelly do a pizza date, and Kelly did good for her anniversary gift.

Lena was so _open_ and so _closed up_ at the same time around the tequila bottle that she was about to give up. It was girthy and hard, sure, and a momentary flare of burn flickered through her mind, white hot and sizzling when she put it in. Forced the sensitive, feisty ring of muscle to _yield_.

But it didn't have a pulse. Didn't throb inside her. Didn't fight the flutter of her needy walls with stuttering jabs.

Worst, it didn't have blue eyes nearly swallowed by black or tousled, half-sweaty golden hair or _that fucking look in its eyes_. The next time Lena's alone in bed—please God, let that be never—this instant will be what she thinks of. The icon of Aphrodite, sleek of skin and round of breast and lithe of motion, crossbred with Osiris and Ra and Helios and Apollo, in their glory as fearsome as the ever-burning sun itself. Standing before her with thick cords of muscle tensing and shivering with nervousness. Hard as the bronze the sculptor used. A cock shaped by a mind that seeks to prove worship.

Kara is close now, and maybe the HVAC system was tuned by a sex worker because the cool air from the AC is blowing _around_ Kara to get to her and _God_ she's never going to be able to start a fireplace again, or go outside after the rain because Kara smells like a forest fire put out by a thunderstorm. Her intense musk is muted by her powers as the surrounding air is crackled and provoked as if her every fiber needs to remind Earth that _she is no longer the master of herself_ , not with such a being walking her surface.

Then Kara stops and lets go of her weeping cock. The sheer weight of it means that unsuspended, it loses its jaunty upward tilt, hanging at horizontal, perhaps even drooping and _fuck_.

Confused, maybe? Changing her mind? That is abso-fucking-lutely unacceptable.

Lena whines, jogging her hips up and pulling the bottle out. Tilting her cunt up and out as in clenches and drips. She lifts her arms and spreads her fingers and greedily grabs at the open air.

"Want," she huffs, her tongue thick and her mouth sloppy with spit because _she wants it in there_ and her body is readying itself.

God bless the instincts of a horny omega. Her cunt is open and clenching, spread wider than she could manage out of heat. Her mouth wetting so fast she swallows before she drowns because she wants that too, and that's as close to lubrication as her body has for that.

"Kara?"

Blue eyes snap up and the lips curl back again, revealing dazzling white but slightly sharp teeth that maybe have a lot to do with fear of Supers. This is _carnivorous_ now.

She gets a short huff in reply. Kara can't drag her eyes up to her face, and it takes Lena a moment to realize she undid her blouse and pushed her bra up to cool her skin.

She lifts a hand to her sore breast and tilts it up so she can flick her nipple with her tongue and Kara whines—-more omega keen than alpha growl—and a fresh droplet of pre-cum pumps from her divot, dropping down under its own weight, stretching like a band before it splats on the floor.

 _Waste!_ her omega cries.

"Again," Kara grunts.

For once, the softness of her breasts doesn't shame her and with Kara's smaller, perkier and oh-so-firm globes with raspberry dark nipples, that's saying something.

"Your turn," she purrs, pushing her breasts together, and _please_ let that look on Kara's face mean she's a boob girl.

There's a flash of blue and Kara is on her now, palming her right breast as her greedy mouth stretches around as much of the left and she can possibly manage. Tongue hot—everything about her is so warm—and quick and flicking against the nipple. Not as careful with the teeth as Lena likes, but she can be taught, and it's not a bite, it's a presence because Kara wants the whole thing in her mouth.

Lena's body snaps taut. The need she'd been feeling was a like a sparking wire. Exposed voltage and pure danger and with Kara on her, mouth on her breast and hand cupping her mound, the circuit is closed. Energy put to purpose. Lights back on.

Danger averted.

Kara pulls off, her mouth sloppy and her lips swollen from her eagerness.

"Her too," Lena pouts, glancing at her other breast and Kara _obeys_ and that's something she wants on her tombstone: Supergirl kissed my boob on command. But then Kara _does_ and her other hand keeps the left warm, squeezing gingerly and swiping the spit around in lazy circles. There's nothing for it. Lena lets her head fall forward, resting her chin in Kara's hair and buck her hips, getting flashes of relief when she drags her clit on the heel of Kara's palm.

 _She really is a virgin_ , Lena thinks.

Kara's sloppy, sucking too hard sometimes and not watching her teeth, and that makes it so much sweeter. And the pain and wrongness and yet when she offered Kara her body, not only did Kara accept she _let Lena be her first_ and God as her witness, she's going to be worthy whether that's strapped over a sex bench until the day she dies or giving away every last dime.

"Kara?" Lena whispers into sweaty hair.

The reply is a mumbled, jumbled mess against her skin that makes Lena groan.

"Can I suck your cock?"

Kara's head snaps up, making Lena's teeth click against each other and spit-dampened palms leave her breasts and gather up her cheeks and eyes of spring-sky blue darken, made heavy by a summer thundercloud.

And Kara doesn't reply.

* * *

The correct answer is 'no'.

In fact, the correct answer is 'the birthing matrix freed us from our urges' and is given in liturgical Kandoori but there's no word for the color of Lena's _eyes_ in liturgical Kandoori, or the salt-sharp taste of her _sweat_ that's juiciest and best right under the heavy curve of her breasts, no word for the cream-spice _scent_ of her—like eggnog or Kahula—and really, there's _so much_ about Lena that Krypton never considered.

Masturbation serves a purpose, she knows. The only thing that keeps criminals of this city safe in her ruts is that she comes straight back here, goes into her panic room and jerks into a towel, visualizing whatever cute omega she saw on the street. Stress hormones drop, her mood improves, nothing gets taken out on some fragile human mugger. Cheaper than Prozac.

Sex has—or can have—a purpose. That had gotten Kara this far. Lena wanted to give pleasure to apologize and if—huge if, genetics and safety and all—Kara put an heir to House El in her, the child would be in Kara's care from its first breath and Lena could decide if she ever wanted to see it again.

Oral sex? Lena's mouth around Kara's cock is _just pleasure_ and nothing else, and Kara's not sure what to do with that. She knows _what_ humans think about sex—she has little choice—but she doesn't know how they manage it. Once sex can be just for fun, how does anything ever get done. How on earth does Alex make it to work? Every day, after work, Kelly's whole face lights up when she sees Alex, and she _looks at her_ as she crosses the parking lot, her hips rolling with liquid grace as she drapes her arms around her mate's shoulders.

Why the Hell doesn't Kara have any nieces and nephews if both Clark and Lois were raised with human ideas about sex?

 _Why can't Kara Danvers be in charge of this part of our lives?_ Her inner traitor whispers. _Lena would feel so good..._

Maybe Kara Zor-El who doesn't have the answer to this. Maybe Supergirl does, but that leads to some ideas about Lena and flying that make her cock twitch so hard it _hurts_. Maybe this is a job for Kara Danvers, who tried to kiss Quinn in the science room and who let Janice from English Lit ride her hand in the dorm shower, needy little grunts and her fingers tight on Kara's shoulders and slick liquid splashing into her palm.

"Kara?"

"M'thinking," she huffs, as if the way she's panting just to get more of Lena's pheromones hasn't already answered the question.

"Can you hand me the medication in my purse, while you think? I want you to spill in my mouth and I have something there so you don't hurt me when you do."

She scrapes her nails up Kara's sides.

"Because I bet the muscles that pump your cum are just as _strong,_ " she purrs, digging her fingers into Kara's bicep. "as these and I bet you blow just as much as you do putting out a fire."

Kara looks over at Lena's small purse. She doesn't see any Kryptonite, or anything dangerous. Cell phone. Taser. Energy pistol of her own design. Bubble shield. Small egg-shaped thingy with an unbalanced motor in it. Condoms. Autoinjector.

Kara fishes it out and hands it over.

"This?"

Lena nods.

"Can you put it in my femoral artery?" Lena asks, tapping a spot on the inside of her plush thighs that is _so close_ to her weeping, spread-open cunt that is _so pink and smells so fucking good and probably tastes even better_ and oh yes, oral sex has a purpose.

It'll make Lena happy.

Kara gets on her knees and shimmies forward, getting her shoulders in between Lena's knees so that she can't close her legs. She presses the injector to the artery on the right and sucks a mark into the flesh of the left thigh.

 _"Alpha,"_ Lena breathes, and it's not a medical term anymore. It's what Kara is to her and it's a thousand frescos in a thousand temples and passages in the Bible that probably don't belong in a book in church and its action, reaction, pull and push and Kara wants that. She doesn't want to be Kara anymore. She want's to be Lena's alpha, who just happens to be _named_ Kara.

Kara flicks the cover on the injector open and presses the switch. Something pricks into her palm, drawing blood. Lena laughs.

Kara doesn't remember much else.

* * *

Kelly's smirk hasn't faded all night. First the movie. Terminator 2 because _Kelly is perfect for Alex_ , then the arcade—enlightened alphas _let_ their omegas win at skee-ball—and now that toothy smile as she props the pizza slice's tip up so it doesn't drip on her shirt which would be a shame. Alex might have to help her clean the shirt off, maybe even take it off. Maybe even slurp up every molecule of marinara from those lovely br-

A sharp knock of Kelly's knuckles on the cheap plastic table snaps Alex out of her alpha's headspace long enough to act like a grown-ass human with words. Until the next time Kelly shifts in her seat, at least, and the angle of the shadow across her neck changes.

"Ally, honey?"

"Yeah?"

Kelly smiles.

"Remember how the adoption lady turned us down?"

"Fuck the Supreme Court, seriously," Alex grumbles.

"Remember how I told you that we didn't _have_ to adopt?"

Alex's brain bounces off memories of their talks about kids over the last year. Adopting preferred, or fostering high-risk youth...but then it hit them. Embarrassing, really. Alex hadn't thought of it, even with Maggie. Not that the beta wanted kids, or communicated well, or really held a candle to Kelly.

But it was always _possible,_ even if in Alex's head lesbians don't have biological children. Like somehow _her_ cock was just decorative.

"Tonight?"

"Tonight, baby."

Alex's alpha howls at the moon, mentally speaking, and Kelly's cheeks darken.

"Let me sit here a while, OK? What you're giving off..."

Kelly breathes deep.

"Give me half an hour and I'll be in heat."

She reaches for Alex's hands and takes them and they just _hold hands_ while a timer on Kelly's phone circles round and round.

Then Alex's phone chirps, and she snarls at it.

"Phone's ringing, babe."

Alex lifts it up off the table to glance.

"Kara's vitals spiked, then went offline."

Kelly wraps her lips around the straw and sucks languidly on a drink she knows _damn well_ is empty, never taking her dark eyes off Alex.

"Sounds like Kara wants privacy. Sounds like _one_ of the Danvers sisters is sinking her knot tonight," Kelly teases. "And if you don't follow me to the ladies in three mikes, she's going to be the only one that does."

Kelly pushes her plate back and a blast of humid, pre-heat spice comes off as she walks past Alex, rolling her sleeve up just far enough Alex can see the Army tattoo.

"Follow me, or you won't get your surprise. That's an _order_ ," she snarls.

"Yes, ma'am."

Reminding Alex of her service is _really a low blow_ , clouding the soft, cushy, makes-it-all-better Kelly Olsen with the one in the pictures, with the rifle and the abs sparkling with sweat in the desert sun.

The cook shakes her head as Kelly rolls past and Kelly flips her off like she's known her twenty years. She opens her palm and the bathroom key is dropped into it by the girl at the register.

Whiffs of Kelly in her lung lead Alex forward like stepping stones on a pond, even as her brain stops being good at things like _reading_ and _working doorknobs_ and not _snarling_ at the guy who pops out of the men's room and slithers past her.

Alex takes a deep breath and opens the door.

"Sam?"

* * *

Kelly stiffens at the blare of tension rolling off Alex, smelling like sea-brine and wet earth—she likes to think of it as Midvale's beach—and she instinctively swats at Sam's thighs so she won't move.

"Alex?" Kelly simpers. It's cheating, sure, but it's cheating that might _save her relationship_ so yes, she'll use her omega to get Alex's attention.

"Yeah?" Alex puffs, the whisky-honey of her eyes swallowed up by her pupils.

"This okay?"

Alex nods, apparently not able to make words right now.

"She was hall pass for _both_ ," Alex finally says. "And all those 'hypothetical'? Would you be okay with adding someone, what would they be like, so on?"

Kelly chuckles.

"Not hypothetical. But she's never done anything to me," Kelly promises, earning a roiling cloud of curiosity from Alex, one not sullied by fear or jealousy. A scent that slices her fear of rejection apart and would have her on her knees and swallowing cock if Sam wasn't keeping her noodled body upright. "Yet."

Alex steps closer and knocks her knuckles playfully under Kelly's jaw.

"Do you want her to, pretty girl?"

"So much," Kelly admits.

She's just a simple omega from Kleinford, Virginia and she has _the fucking love of her life_ staring at her, not angry, and a skyscraper of a well-dressed alpha behind her who she maybe fell for just off Alex's anecdotes and the heat of her out-of-this-world body soaks Kelly's back like she's sunbathing.

"Still having a baby, Kels?"

"Want it," Kelly huffs. "Want your knot _so bad,_ Ally. Want you to pump me so full it's tender. Want to be plump, want your cum melting in my body, keeping me warm. But do you want _this_?" she asks, gesturing from Sam behind her to Alex in front of her.

 _Please, Lord Jesus, do not let this be a moment where Alex Elaine Danvers gets shy,_ she hopes. _Woman up and be the big-girl lesbian I know you can be, Alex!_

Alex trails her knuckles down Kelly's shirt and flattens her hand across her navel.

"I do," she whispers. "I _really_ do. But you're gonna have to be a good girl for us," she reminds Kelly. "You've been bad, setting it up like this."

"Yeah?" Kelly pants. The dampness of her slick is spreading through the fabric of her jeans, making her _warm_ in ways beyond her spiraling heat.

"You're gonna have to take my knot, over and over, whenever I like, until I'm over this little game."

_Thought she was going to edge me. That's a relief._

"Good. What else?"

"We're gonna talk about why we got engaged but didn't _bite_."

"Tear my shirt off," Kelly demands. "Bite me, both of you. NOW!"

Alex looks _past_ her and _fuck it hurts_ to have the burn of her gaze leave Kelly's sweaty body and lock onto Sam over her shoulder.

"Sam?"

"Couldn't dream of a better omega," she rumbles and _ooh, there is a reason_ that Luthor's scent becomes candy-sweet and syrup-dense whenever she sees Supergirl interviewed on the news. Even now, even when Kelly's the last one Lena talks to because _Kelly didn't know either_ and they run into each other at Obsidian.

"But doesn't she need to be turned on, first?"

"Don't want to hurt her," Alex muses.

"It's a deal, Kelly, my naughty girl. My pretty girl. _My good girl._ "

Kelly whines, her hips jogging toward Alex and then settling back against Sam, giving a figure-eight grind to keep the oh-so-patient alpha's interest and judging by the damp, searing hot touch of skin on her back, she's interested. Sam's cock has escaped underwear and waistband alike, and the tip is jabbing into the small of her back.

"One condition."

Alex's hands work her jean's snaps like someone who's done it a hundred times. Like someone who can be unzipped and hard and _inside_ in two minutes and there's no need for her emergency anti-anxiety shot when a flashback kicks in and Alex is there, because Alex takes such good care of her.

Alex's patient care for Kelly at her worst is reason number one that Alex deserves to be with the alpha she's secretly loved since before Kelly met her.

Denim is yanked down to her thighs _far enough, fuck, get on with it already_ and a fingertip traces the sodden silk of her panties.

Teeth grab her earlobe and a tongue traces the edge of the other from behind and Alex hand snakes past Kelly's hip and wraps around _Sam_ and a happy rumble behind her and a stalled breath in front of her tell Kelly she's been a good girl, indeed.

"Sam doesn't get this hole until a test says you're pregnant with my babies. Deal?"

"Deal," Sam laughs. "Long as I get her ass. And her _mouth._ Lube in my bag."

"My ass too," Alex huffs. "And mouth."

Sam shoots off, untouched, behind Kelly and she moans as jet after jet soaks her shirt.

"Feeling better?" Alex jokes.

"She's...amazing," Sam grits in a voice rough and dark like just laid asphalt. "You're both amazing."

"Here?" Sam asks. "Right here, pretty girl?"

"Sam...Alex..."

Kelly turns her face for a sloppy, slippery kiss on and across the cheek from Sam and then turns back for Alex to lick into her mouth, pushy and powerful and tasting like pepperoni. Alex's hands land on her hips and _clamp hard_ and Sam's move to her thighs, ready to lift her into the air and spread her.

"Knot me."

"I'm pretty sure a high school buddy of hers owns the place, Sam."

"Floor's clean enough. There's an out-of-order sign by the sink. We can carry her out the window to go home."

Alex was apparently satisfied because she's all over Kelly now, nosing her cheek and rubbing against her, and her cock pokes heavy and hard against Kelly's hip.

"Mate first," Sam offers.

"Mate to be as soon as I'm in, deal?"

Sam's answer is a messy groan and a whirlwind of sugar-tang, like lemon drops or sour gummy worms.

Alex's cock pokes experimentally against her, jabbing all sorts of _not quite_ because she doesn't want to let go of Kelly's hips, or maybe the brush of her hand on the sleeve of Sam's work shirt.

Then Sam shifts her somehow and _did she use her X-Ray vision for that_ because now Alex's blunt, twitching head is nestled securely in Kelly's folds. Alex pushes forward, slow and merciless with a long sigh and a _shush_ whenever Kelly's thighs twitch because it's so good she wants to savor it. Her tip bumps against Kelly's cervix, softly. No pain, just a message. Alex has all of her. There's no more to take, and Kelly's to remember that. Easily done, with Alex's thick length stretching her and her thudding pulse somewhere so deep she swears she feels those fat veins throbbing just under her heart.

"She takes cock so well. She feel good?" Sam asks.

Alex nods, her teeth worrying at her lip.

"Better put a baby in her fast, mama bear. Sounds like I've got something to look forward to."

"That's not all," Alex grunts when she shakes off the haze. "She can _take a knot in her mouth_ , she's such a whore."

Alex did _not_ have to share that. Kelly's extremely _proud_ of that not-so-usual talent and it's her favorite way to make Alex take the day off, to take her in soft and take her deep and position her cock so she can still breathe before Alex comes to. Alex doesn't argue when she's buried in Kelly's throat and she's not going soft for an hour. She calls in sick and it _works_ because she sounds half dead from the feeling of it.

"Yeah? And she can still breathe?"

"Enough," Kelly huffs. "Enough to survive."

There's a squelching noise that makes Kelly come alive, shaking off some of heat's haze. Then powerful fingers, slick with cool liquid, tapping at her asshole to say 'open up' and Kelly nods.

"Slow," she demands.

"So slow," Sam promises, sinking a finger in.

She wiggles and teases and finds a hot spot where she can press her finger against the thin barrier that separates her finger in Kelly's ass from Alex's cock in her cunt and _this was a bad idea_ because these alphas are so comfortable with each other. No fiddling, no stupid little 'no homo' snarls like that one time she tried this with men. No, this is going to be a regular thing and outside of heat, being skewered at both ends is something she'll need a whole workout regimen for.

Then Sam puts in a second finger, and Alex bites her collarbone—far away from the knob of bones for a mark but enough to make Kelly melt and Sam spreads her with a third and then feeds the slick head in, rocking slowly to take it easy on Kelly.

"Warm," Sam chokes out. "So tight."

Alex goes still, resting her sweaty forehead against Kelly's and just _experiencing_ with her as Sam puts her cock in. Not as thick, thank god, but _thick enough_ and _hard_ and _long_. Seemingly endless. Burning quick and sweet as she stretches around it and plunging deep until all that's left is heat in her guts.

"S'all," Sam promises, when her length is settled and her balls settle between Kelly's thighs. "So good for us, isn't she?"

" _Sam_ ," Alex whines. "You feel so good, next to me. Inside her and...I can feel yours, against mine."

"Me too," Sam grunts.

They like the feel of each others balls knocking together as they adjust to being _inside together_ and Kelly's pretty sure she's a fucking genius for picking them. Kelly chuckles and loops her hands around Alex's neck and slashes her tongue along the redhead's throat, picking out real estate for her mating bite.

Kelly's full and suspended in four strong hands and lips are all over her face and the back of her neck and she's being _used_ but it's also worship and it's very confusing and she needs them both to fuck her until she can't walk and also needs them inside her, long as they can, knots keeping her pinned like a butterfly as she drifts off to sleep safe in so much love.

"One or both of you is going to have to _thrust,_ you realize?"

Matching growls and then they _do_ , Alex moving her hand to press on Kelly's clit to up the burn as her cock grinds past and snapping into a dirty, needy rut that _shouldn't work_ to get her off. But she's feeling so much and she's so happy it worked that Alex only gets a few strokes in before Kelly feels it coiling in her belly and around her spine, fiery and tense and then Sam moves, opposing the rhythm and the first time their cockheads collide, separated only by her, Kelly comes to with a shriek, her walls fluttering and clenching on Alex who _won't put the knot in,_ the one she can feel nestled against her lips.

"You first," Alex huffs. "So it doesn't hurt her."

Lube is drizzled all over Kelly's ass and she reaches back with nearly-useless hands to help but Sam swats them away, leading them instead to Kelly's clit.

"Touch yourself, pretty girl. Help Alex get it in."

Sam's knot is as hard as her cock but not as bulging as Kelly's used to but it's substantial and it isn't a lump at the base, it's more like the bottom quarter and _goddamn_ Kelly is going to enjoy that in her cunt.

With Sam seated and kissing and muttering nonsense against the skin of her shoulder, Alex rocks her hips. Back, forth, side to side and then _forward_ and Kelly's body opens, and she's in and Alex is coming and there's _no end to it_ and it sets Sam off and Kelly's going to drip for days, she just knows it and it's perfect and who cares?

Her own orgasm is sudden and crackling, exploding behind her eyes and inside her skull and it contains _everything in the world_ and she spins out of her body, maybe out of the universe. By the time it settles, she's in the back of a Lyft with a towel under her and her mates are holding hands behind her back and she can feel damp hotness on her neck and sore bones. Knotted and bitten by her mates, just like she wanted.

Sam and Alex each keep a hand on her knee to push her legs together to keep them shut and prevent the driver from getting a show.


	3. From Kasnia With Sexy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Lena fucked around with mad science, and now she just wants the mad science to fuck her.

Lena was top of her class at MIT. She's been invited to speak at Ivy League schools, Oxford, Cambridge, and the like a collective sixty-two times. There are professorships open for her at most of those. Chairs pulled out with a little reserved-for plaque. Trinity College in Dublin has not-so-subtly implied that the dean's office is hers for the taking, and their xenobiology and xenoengineering program is top shelf. Many of the refugee Green Martians—in total, survivors are now a few dozen—decided that the green in Ireland made it home.

Lena didn't feel _clever_ until an hour ago. Now, with Kara curled behind her and her Kasnia counterpart koala-ed against her front, she feels very clever indeed. She's confident Kara won't mind.

Kara had expressed shame that she couldn't save Linda, with her desire to do good and her eyes open to the world at last, and maybe it had a bit to do with how Linda was just as stuck on Lena as Kara. Kara's sleep-hardened length is still partially trapped in denim from her never-fully-shed pants, but she can feel the heat of it as the abused zipper's tab pokes at her thighs. Linda is awake and not awake at the same time, eyes open and fingers tracing spirals on Lena's bare breasts but not looking like someone aware of the world in general. Her equally divine shaft is soft, trailing along her thighs, pressed so close.

She had hoped that applying Harun-El to herself in close proximity to Kara would split them apart again. She needed the treatment anyway because without the powers it grants, she'd be killed if Kara really took her and Lena wants that. Not as punishment, but because she likes her alphas rough. Forceful. Selfish.

The last time she had an alpha, it was Andrea, and it was rough and dirty. Dishes thrown off tables so Lena's naked body could replace them. Textbooks falling to the floor with thumps. Fingers still savory-salty with oil and spice from cooking plunged into her mouth, two and three and once even four broad, because Andrea didn't feel like wiping them on the apron and Lena was right there, skin pink with heat and mewling for _something_ in her mouth. Hoarse at breakfast from spearing Andrea's cock into her throat to wake her and hoarse at bedtime from screaming. They didn't live together so much as abuse their privilege. Lena's done some filthy things under tables in boardrooms at Obsidian branch offices because it was her turn, and Andrea was rutting. Andrea racked up frequent flyer miles aplenty winging her way to Boston and later Metropolis just before Lena's heats. Even brought a glassy eyed flight attendant with her once because her rut kicked off on the plane and the omega wasn't going anywhere unless Lena got out a crowbar. Andrea snarled that the girl couldn't take her mouth off Lena's cunt without permission. Quite a weekend.

She doesn't need alphas for the easy stuff. If she just needs an orgasm, she's got the best toys money can buy and a few of her own devising. She'd sue for defamation if it leaked, but her custom lube's scent is based on Kara's musk. Synthesized from a sports bra she tossed in her hamper after accompanying Lena for a jog. Seemed less perverted than clutching the lyrca between her legs as she rode a pillow. Again. That, and the fact that in the absence of the actual source, the orgasm she got out of that ride nearly killed her.

Orgasms, she can handle, but if she needs a _fuck_ , she needs an alpha, and they need to make her dizzy and if at all possible, give her that tender feeling that doesn't hurt unless she presses. In her heats, she needs to feel them so deep that their cock's twitch and pulse anchors her own heartbeat.

A groan from Kara breaks Lena from her own thoughts.

"Wha?"

Kara sniffs.

"Linda?"

* * *

This is not the effect Lena was after. The wrestling match between the startled, spooked alphas was bloodless and quick, only destroying a stainless steel-framed coffee table and a wall that doesn't _look_ like it's crucial for holding up the roof.

For Lena, it was incendiary, firing every nerve in her body from across the room. It should have ended with the winner--Kara, naturally--knotting Lena while the other had to wait.

But no...Kara's a hero. Damn her to hell. So she let Linda shower first and made some tea and asked if Linda was all right, and if her time spent fused back into her had hurt her somehow.

Lena is livid. Here's the woman she'd lusted after for five years and her sweet, innocent doppelganger--she'll have so much fun _ruining Linda's virtue--_ and neither of them will fuck her.

"I need a cock in me," she huffs.

She hadn't exactly meant to say it out loud.

Two golden-haloed heads swivel to face her and two pairs of plush, cotton-candy-pink lips curl into smirks and _fuck_. This may have been a bad idea. Even for Lena Luthor, queen of terrible coping mechanisms, taking the strongest being on the planet—if not in the galaxy—and duplicating her so that Lena can get spit-roasted might have been a bit much.

It works, though. Kara slides out of her jeans, flinging them somewhere far away and pads towards her, barefoot and grinning and hardening fast. Linda follows a step behind, her gait looser, slinkier and oh-so-predatory next to Kara's regal posture. Scion of a noble House, after all.

She wants them to share her. Share each other, too. One could nibble on her neck and one could kiss her and then they could switch, melting her like a candle before she was even on her back. Her forebrain decides she'd like to be standing, squeezed between them as their hands explore her. Older and wiser parts of Lena's central nervous system buckle her knees long before she can actually find her feet. They appear on either side of her instantly, and the dispelled energy of two superspeed exits makes her whole body crackle. Hair standing on end. Skin twitching from the static. Twenty tiny, sharp shocks as their fingers make contact.

"Stay," Kara pleads. Her voice is rough, dark and jagged and her scent is too. She still fills Lena's lungs with clean rain and wet leaves, but the smoky notes have changed, less like a fireplace and more like dirty charcoal, and it _works_ for Lena in so many ways.

"For me?"

It's hardly the most dominant thing an alpha's ever said to her, but it's Kara and she's Disney movies and smiley-face pancakes and sleepovers she didn't get the hint during. Kara is Twizzlers turned into balloon animals and saying _open up, silly Lena_ and sliding them into her mouth and she has no idea _how they're not already married_ given how often she's licked and suckled Kara's sugar-coated fingers while batting her eyelashes. Seems they didn't have a course titled Signals that Your Omega Needs to be Fucked Stupid 101 at the Academy of Argo.

"She will stay still," Linda rumbles. "That is safer."

_There it is._

She's an omega. They're here and they're powerful and they smell amazing and she's not going to be able to stand, or walk away, or fidget, or _anything_ except what they ask. Millions of years of human evolution block it. Mother after mother into prehistory, Lena's successful omega forbearers survived being mounted and bred in caves and in the mud because they _obeyed_ and did what they were told and the rowdier ones were injured, or ignored, or had fewer children. This baked submissiveness into her bones.

Kara's tongue dances on Lena's neck from the left, the hot tip tracing her pulse like a brand. For her part, Linda steps behind her and peels Lena's arms off her breasts--why _did_ she fold her arms anyway?--replacing them with her curious fingers.

In her head, this went a bit differently. In her head, no one so _unfairly sexy and casually butch_ as Ms Kara Danvers with abs that can crash _the brain of the Pilates instructor_ from across the room was a goddamned _virgin_ which meant Lena wasn't going to have to direct traffic. 

Lena could just be because whatever Linda knew or didn't know, Kara knew how to make an omega scream. Except she doesn't.

Lena, in her infinite stupidity, has fallen madly in love with two sweet, kind, amazing, breathtaking alphas who have no practice with sex.

She's going to have to work for it.

"Can you help us, Lee?" Kara asks. "S'new for me."

"Me as well. There were..."

Linda growls.

"Alex brought omegas. To relax, he said. I did not like their smell."

"They were probably frightened," Lena muses, patting Linda's rock-hard forearm where it curls around her waist. "Such an _alpha_ , and to be some poor Kasnian whore grabbed off the street?"

She can't imagine how scary that would be. Well, she _can_ and she'd probably have a _different view of it_ and when it comes to _these two_ , if they want to hand her a ruble and kick her to her knees and _fuck her till she can't walk_ then she's their whore. She's going to have to freshen her Russian and see if someone at L-Corp Moscow can discreetly discover what streetwalkers wear over there.

"Her first," Kara suggests. "She's..."

Kara Zor-El and Supergirl boil away with a scarlet blush, and it's Kara Danvers again.

"I've...uh...my hand. Linda's never had anything, I bet."

"Little tip? When it comes to omegas? Nobility," Lena purrs, slithering from their grip and onto her knees. "Will get you nowhere."

She curls her hand around Kara's length, smearing the pre-cum to keep things comfortable and curling her fingers where the blood pounds hardest. She fists her lazily, keeping her interested. Using the hand job like a bookmark. She turns to Linda and cups her length with her free hand, lifting the head to her lips. She twirls her tongue under the head and pushes slow, making sure she has time to adjust because the salty-musky, oh-so-warm head is _so fucking broad_ it takes strategy and adjustments to her plan to get it in her mouth. Linda appreciates every instant of it with startled little gasps and fingers twirling along her scalp in lazy, light spirals and the other hand around not the back of her head, but around her back, falling into an impromptu back rub that has Lena groaning around the cock.

Blessedly for her, the shaft is slightly narrower than the head, so that was the hard part. She hollows her cheeks and sucks and lashes her tongue along the fat vein on the bottom. Linda's hands grip her shoulder and her skull _hard_ and without the Harun-El it would be risky.

"Fill her," Kara grunts. "She's strong enough."

Linda shouts something in Russian, or Kryptonian or Klingon for all Lena cares and then she's coming, pumping hot and thick into her mouth until Lena's cheeks swell and she _has_ to swallow.

"Good girl," Kara coos, drawing a full-body shiver and making her omega preen. "You took her so well, Lee."

Lena pulls off Linda's cock with a placating pat to her tensed, twitching thigh and turns to her other victim, cleaning what's left of her lipstick off with her tongue.

"Kara?"

"Yeah?"

"I like to be used sometimes, understand?"

"Uh-huh."

"So I'm going to take you in my mouth, all right? And I'm going to go deep and when you're ready, I want you to fuck my face. Can you do that?"

Kara looks down at her, icy blue eyes sparkling across a landscape of bronze abs and the peaks of her small breasts capped with dark pink nipples.

"What are friends for?"


	4. A Handy Tip

This story is posted first [here](https://tinyurl.com/ydhcwjf8) for subscribers, then copied to AO3 at a delay.

**Author's Note:**

> ##  [Want to see the posh stuff? Want to see future chapters early?](https://rb.gy/b1fjhr)
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